What People Do
by AnabelleG
Summary: Brennan reacts when Booth wants to discuss her feelings concerning the revelations about Zach. Follows 'Pain in the Heart'.


**A/N: One of the things I've noticed, particularly since the advent of Sweets, is that people often try to tell Brennan how she should feel or react to certain events. And sometimes I find myself a little irked on her behalf. So that is where this story started….and after that it kind of took on a life of its own. Hope you enjoy! -AnaG**

Brennan stabbed her fork into the cardboard container, wedging it firmly in the virtually untouched mound of sticky rice it held. With a frustrated sigh, she rose and stalked across the room, honing in on the persistent knocking intruding from the other side of the door.

Her glance through the peephole was more from habit than necessity, and it served only to confirm what she already knew. Of course it was him. It was always him. And she wished he would go away.

As if cued to her thoughts, the knocking abruptly ceased. For a moment, she indulged in the possibility that he had granted her wish. But she knew he would have been vigilantly listening for the sound of footfalls, would have noticed the brief darkening of the small lens in the door. There was no value in pretending otherwise. Even if she waited him out, he would just come back.

Some things, many things, she'd learned, simply had to be endured. However, that didn't require her to provide him with any more ammunition in this war of concern that he was waging. She braced her shoulders and carefully modulated her features into a semblance of control before reaching for the doorknob.

It did little good though, because as soon as she saw his face, recognized the unasked question in his eyes, the irritation returned as strong as before, verging perilously close to anger. She admitted him with a disgruntled nod and walked back to her chair, settling into the cushions without a word.

Though she refused to look in his direction, she was still aware that he paused by the door, the hesitation in his progress as he made his way into the room and sat across from her. A pang of guilt emerged, her own voice admonishing her careless response to him. But she dismissed it as she reached for the bottle on the table, the deep brown glass cool against her fingers.

Maybe it was unfair of her, but it part of the blame lay with him. And Angela. Sweets too. Even Caroline had contributed in her own gruff manner. She assumed they meant well, but she was tired of it. The sympathetic looks that felt short of empathy, the progressively concerned inquiries, the invalid interpretations of her reactions and most of all, the misguided and unwanted advice on what she should do next.

Why, she asked herself as she sipped from her beer and ignored the man next to her, couldn't they leave her alone to handle the situation? Didn't they, didn't he, know her well enough by now to know that she was dealing with the circumstances in the way that was best for her. She was well capable of assigning the events and her emotions to their appropriate place in her mind, and even her heart, if only they would give her the time and space to do so.

It wasn't a matter of preference, but what she needed. And that was all the understanding she required from them.

Placing the bottle to the table with a distinct thump against the wood, she returned to the food, running the fork through the clumped grains of rice as she resigned herself to the inevitable conversation. He didn't take long.

"So."

She ignored his first volley and forced herself to take a bite of rice, the food like lead in her mouth as she silently appraised him. A tentative approach was not what she had expected.

"Food looks good."

"Got to eat, right?" She replied, though it was obvious to both of them that the meal had barely been touched.

"Sure, Bones. Sure. How many of those have you had?" He asked, with a pointed nod to the short row of bottles on the table.

"A prime number." She knew she was being petulant now, but if he was so interested in her alcohol consumption, he was capable of counting.

"Just asking." Except he wasn't just asking. He was making assumptions.

"I'm not drunk, Booth. And I'm not drowning my sorrows if that's what you're thinking."

"Never crossed my mind. But you have to admit, this isn't you."

She placed her fork on the table with a care that belied her annoyance. Not her? What gave him the right to define who she was?

"This is exactly who I am."

"Really?"

"Really, Booth. I'm the same person I've always been."

"Un-huh. And this would be the same person that made the new intern cry today?"

"I did not."

This time he was the one that remained silent, a raised eyebrow his only response. She decided to concede the point, if only to move the discussion closer to its end.

"You've been talking to Cam."

"She may have mentioned something. Angela too."

"What about Hodgins? Wasn't he part of this discussion about me?"

"It's not a betrayal, Bones. They're concerned."

" 'They' don't need to be. I'm fine."

"Mm-hm. So fine that you're chasing away interns at the rate of about one a week."

"If they can't handle this, then it's best for everyone that we find out now rather than later."

"So you're only testing them. Making sure that they're tough enough."

"Yes." She answered slowly, wary of the sudden accommodation in his tone.

"I can see why you would be hard on them. To prepare them, right? Investigating murders. Crossing paths with criminals."

She should never have engaged him. She'd seen what he could do with the smallest threads of conversation. The man had made interrogation into an art form. And the confession that he wanted this time was hers.

Her muscles tensed as she waited for him to continue.

"Yeah, I can see it. Not wanting to risk having an assistant that's weak. Another one." He paused. "Another Zach."

"I'm not talking about this, Booth."

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. She turned away from him, not willing to submit to his appraisal.

"Bones. What happened. What he did. It's not your fault."

Except that it was. The decision she had made three years ago, her insistence upon deeper involvement in the investigations, had drawn them all, including Zach, down the same path.

"Zach is the one that bears responsibility for his actions." Booth continued. "Him and Gorma—"

"Caleb Pryce. His name is, was, Caleb Pryce."

She could no longer abide the code name they'd given that madman. In light of what he had caused, it seemed too facile, afforded a level of separation that none of them deserved.

"Fine. Zach and Pryce. Them, Bones. Not you."

The resentment that had been lulled away came roaring back. She resented him for pairing those names together and then presuming to provide absolution. And herself for how much she wanted to accept what she didn't deserve.

Needing distraction, she reached for the beer, avoiding his searching look as she took a sip, the now warm liquid acrid and bitter against her tongue.

"You know, Booth, you're right."

"Great, that's great Bones, because…"

"This stuff does taste like ear wax."

She deliberately made her voice hard. To make the dismissal even clearer, she stood and beginning gathering the remnants of her meal. Walking as quickly as she could while still appearing nonchalant, she made her way to the kitchen.

After quickly sliding the uneaten food into the refrigerator, she gripped the edge of the counter with her hands and locked her elbows as she leaned forward, taking a deep calming breath. She just needed a few moments to get things back in place, under control, and she would be alright.

See. It was already working. Just like it had for more than sixteen years. Feeling calmer, ready to get through whatever else he had to say, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with Booth.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his approach, and now he was just _there_, invading the quiet personal space she had been trying to find.

"Listen…."

"Booth. Don't. Just leave it alone. Please"

"Sorry, Bones. Can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not what people do when they….."

He stopped talking and just looked at her. With the look. The one that he got when he edged right up to that 'line' of his and then backed away.

In an instant, she knew exactly how to make him understand.

"When they….what, Booth?"

She said softly, taunting him as she moved closer to him, near enough to feel the heat from his body, see the tightening in the muscles along his jaw.

"Temperance…"

The way his voice broke over her name was almost enough to make her forget the reason she was doing in this. The reason she reached out to touch him, her fingertips flirting with the buttons on his shirt as she looked into his eyes.

"When they…?" She asked again, her mouth so close to his as she spoke that she could feel his breath mingling with her own. Her eyes drifted down to his lips and she leaned forward just as he stepped away.

She allowed herself to feel the disappointment as the cool air flowed into the space between them, but only for a moment before she added another step to the distance. Crossing her arms over her chest, she pasted a look of satisfaction onto her face.

"Hm. Seems like I'm not the only one that needs some 'time' to think about how they feel about things."

Ignoring the pain that came with the flash of confusion and hurt that washed over his face, she forced herself to continue. She hated this, but she was tired too, so tired of having to justify her emotions.

"Maybe once you work out some things of your own, then you can go back to telling me how I ought to feel." She said as she brushed past him and started across the living room.

"I know what you're doing and it won't work."

His words stopped her in her tracks and she turned back to face him.

"And what would that be?" She asked, knowing that they both already knew the answer.

"Pushing people away, driving them away before they hurt you. And it's not going to work. Not this time."

A small part of her was soothed by his words, but she also noticed that he hadn't moved a single step in her direction.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, Bones. You can't…."

"Then you don't know me as well as you think." She said softly.

Without another word, another glance at his face, she walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Settling on the edge of her bed, she thought of him out there, thought of him leaving and felt the tears burn in her eyes.

Didn't he know? Driving people away—it was one of her superpowers.

xxxxx

She opened her eyes, the panic following her into wakefulness. Alone in the darkness, she could hear herself gasping for air, feel the race of her pulse as she struggled to separate her from the dream.

They were all gone. All of them. Zach. Cam. Angela. Hodgins. All of them dissolving right before her eyes until she was alone. Alone with nothing but bones and dust. And then, Booth….

Booth.

The nightmare vanished into adrenaline and guilt. She shoved the duvet away and rushed into her office, frantically searching for her cell phone. Hands shaking, she pressed the button to dial his number. She had to know that he hadn't disappeared too.

She listened as the line continued to ring, closed her eyes as she pictured him looking at her number on the display and turning away. It was what she deserved. She had no right, no right at all to ask this of him after what she'd said.

Accepting what she had done, she started to hang up when she became aware of the odd pattern of the ringtones. The muffled one emitted from her phone and the other much more distinct echoing from her living room.

Her hand fell to her side as she hesitantly followed the chiming into the next room. She saw the phone first, perched on the corner of the coffee table, the blue light of the display drawing her like a beacon.

And then, as she rounded the corner of the table, she saw him asleep on the couch.

He hadn't disappeared. And he hadn't left her.

As if he had heard the words cross through her mind, his eyes opened.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Dumbfounded, she shook her head.

"Bad dream."

"C'mere." He said, his voice still bleary with sleep as he sat up.

She paused, unable to look away from his hand as he gestured for her to sit next to him. Then, before she could second guess the invitation, she went to him, nestling against his side as his arm settled around her shoulders and drew her closer.

"I'm sorry." She whispered against the soft cotton of his shirt.

" 'S okay, Bones."

"You forgive me?"

"Yep. Now. Go to sleep."

"But, why?"

"Because it's what…. people do… when they….."

She waited for him to continue but realized that he had returned to sleep.

"When they what, Booth?" She asked softly.

She stared into the darkness until she realized that the answer to her question was in sleepy even rhythm of his breathing And then she rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes and slept.


End file.
